


This Thing that Men Call Justice

by tempisfugit



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-27 07:37:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempisfugit/pseuds/tempisfugit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa Stark is an associate at a top NYC law firm; Petyr Baelish takes her under his wing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She’s been working on this deposition all day, but Varys’ testimony is ironclad – not a single misstep, no hint of impropriety or fraud. Sansa closes the binder with a sigh and places it on a tottering pile at the edge of the desk, spines labeled in a thin, neat hand:  
  
 _Baratheon v. Baratheon, et al.; Aerys Targaryen – SEC Records; Targaryen v. Martell – Divorce Pleadings_  
  
Stretching languorously in her chair, she spins to look at the twinkling lights of the city, at the thousands of other twenty-somethings feverishly working into the night. Her office is small, a narrow path between bookcases crammed with case files and the two desks along the other wall, but there’s a great view of the river and the New Jersey cliffs. As a summer associate, she is stuck by the door; the third-year associate she shares with has the window, but Margaery left hours ago.   
  
At school they’d said the summer gig was an easy one – wining and dining with the partners, the occasional trip to court – but she’s been swamped with work since day one. She’s not one to complain, though, not to her parents or her siblings or the other summers. Lannister and King is one of the top litigation firms worldwide, and Sansa will do anything,  _anything_ , to get a job here after graduation, even if it means sucking up to Cersei or doing Joff’s share of the work.  
  
She turns back to her monitor and pulls up the take-out website she has bookmarked. Chinese? Sushi? Indian?  
  
“Sushi, definitely,” says a familiar voice. Petyr Baelish leans against a stack of boxes, trousers slung low against his hips, the sleeves of his crisp white shirt rolled up to reveal pale, wiry forearms. She hasn’t spoken to him since that embarrassing incident with Dontos from bankruptcy at the Fourth of July picnic, but she’s heard all about him from her secretary, Jeyne. He paid his own way through Yale Law, making a name for himself at the capitol, and he’s a shoo-in for partner next year, the youngest since Jaime Lannister. Last she heard, he was seeing some paralegal on the 18th floor (Rose or Rosslyn or something), but the admin staff is notoriously ill informed.  
  
“Sushi,” he repeats with a smile. “That’s what Cat and I would do on late nights at the Attorney General’s office. ”  
  
She smiles back shyly, doubling her usual order as he takes a seat. He reaches for the Varys binder, idly thumbing through the pages that she has meticulously analyzed and reanalyzed.   
  
“So, she has you on the Targaryen case now? That’s quite a lot to ask of a summer associate.”  
  
She nods and bites her lip nervously.  
  
“It’s an interesting case – the lack of precedent leads to some unusual arguments. And it’s not too much work, not really, Joff has been, well, he’s been very helpful.”  
  
He smirks, leaning forward to put the Varys depo on the desk.  
  
“Spare me. You have Cat’s look, but you have your father’s poker face, or lack of one, rather. Joff’s a useless shit and we all know it. Only got in to NYU because Tywin donated a new wing to the library.”   
  
She has no response to this and picks up a highlighter, twirling it nervously. He points to a spot on the page in front of her. His fingers are long and thin, and for a moment she wonders how they would feel against her skin. Cool and smooth, she thinks.  
  
“Here. He mentions Rhaenys. If his timeline was true, he shouldn’t have known anything about her yet. Start there and the thread will unravel. We wouldn’t want you to go to Cersei empty-handed, would we?”  
  
"Thank you Mr. Ba- Petyr. You're a lifesaver. I've been through this dozens of times - I can't believe I missed it."  
  
"My pleasure, Sansa. I'm here to help. Cat was never cut out for litigation you know, but you, you might just have that spark. Now, why don't we go over Rhaegar's documents while we wait for dinner?"  
  
His smile is wide and teasing as he extends his hand, though his eyes are dark and unreadable, and she clasps it between hers. Cool and smooth, just as she thought.


	2. Chapter 2

Sansa’s in her last week as a Summer Associate when she gets the call from Taena, Cersei’s secretary, to come to her office. She reaches under the desk for her other stiletto, grabbing her suit jacket off the back of her chair as she turns to Margaery, who raises an eyebrow in that suggestive way of hers. She bumps into Petyr as she leaves her office, notebook falling to the floor, and in one smooth motion he bends and stands, handing it to her with a smile, his fingertips brushing against her wrist.

“Off to the 49th floor?” He asks.  She holds back a smile and the obvious question – in the few months she’s known him she’s realized that Petyr is exceptionally good at reading people ( _or maybe it’s just me, maybe I’m not quite as composed around him as I think_ ).

“I’ll go up with you.  I need to stop in at Tyrion’s to go over our cross-examination prep.”

They walk in silence through the hallway to the elevators.  It’s early, not yet 8, but the offices they pass are full of associates hard at work. The elevator doors open on a blond-haired 20-something, large Starbucks in one hand, Blackberry in the other, hair held back by a pair of aviators perched on his head.  He smirks when he sees her and she steps next to him (wishing Petyr had gone first but no, he’s ever the gentleman) careful to leave some space between them.  The button for the 49th floor is already lit and she hopes he won’t be going to the same meeting. Ever since their disastrous date a few weeks ago (which had ended in her unceremoniously being pushed out of his apartment holding her clothes – she was still hazy about the particulars) she’d tried to avoid being in tight spaces with Joffrey.

“So Stark, they finally kicking you out of the program? It’s about time – I told Grandfather we shouldn’t take any upstate trash and from the look of the news I’ve finally been proved right.”

He laughs at her look of confusion. Petyr tenses slightly in front of them, for all that he had been feigning disinterest. 

“Oh come on, it was all over the blogs yesterday. The WSJ picked it up this morning.”

He flashes his phone at her and she reads the headline on the screen, her stomach sinking.  **Law Dean’s Son Accused of LSAT Cheating Ring**.

“Such a shame.  Dear old Ned’s been leading that school for what, twenty years now? I’m surprised it took that long for shit to hit the fan, actually.  And with Baby Bran-Flake too, who would’ve thunk?  It’s only a matter of time before it all comes crashing down – I’m sure Robb and Jon had something to do with it and God only knows what that Tully bitch thinks of it.  I knew there had to be some reason an assistant Attorney General would shack up with a state school loser.”

The doors open and Joff steps out jauntily, tipping his invisible hat to them both.

“Say hi to Mom for me!”

She takes a deep breath as the doors close. Petyr presses the stop button, turning towards her as she lets out a small sob.  He grips her shoulders tightly, the gesture strange in his delicate hands, and shakes gently, repeating her name until she breaks her trance to meet his gaze, tears pooling in her eyes.

“The calls,” she sputters.  “Mom’s been calling a lot the past week and Robb too. But I was so swamped trying to get that motion done for Jaime’s case and I had that big meeting with Brienne and I just didn’t want to be bothered.  If I’d… I thought it must have been about Arya’s surprise party next week and I just didn’t care enough to deal with it. If only I’d--”

“Stop.  Just stop.  You’re getting ahead of yourself.  What did the headline say?”

“Bran’s been running some sort of LSAT cheating…”

“No, Sansa, think.  You’re training to be a lawyer, fucking think like one.”

“Dean’s son accused of LSAT cheating ring.”

“Accused.  Not guilty, not convicted, not confessed.  Accused.”

“But surely they wouldn’t make that sort of accusation without proof?”

“Yeah, and surely Cersei Lannister’s faithful to her husband.  You know the cases Cat deals with.  You know what case your father was testifying on.  You must realize that there are people who would say anything – do anything – to shut them up.”

She nods, drying her eyes as best as she can with her fingers as he hands her a handkerchief from his pocket. _Ever the gentleman._

“Good, then it goes without saying that you also know what you have to do.”

And with that, he releases the button on the elevator as they step out onto the 49th floor.

 

-o0o-

 

It’s dark in her office and she wonders when it got to be so late – and how long she must have been sitting still for the motion sensor lights to shut off.  They flicker back on as she reaches for her phone only to pull back as she remembers Petyr’s word of warning. 

 _No calls, no emails, no texts.  I need to lay low until this calms down.  Can’t give Cersei any excuse to chuck me out_.

Her boss had been all cold smiles and fake concern this morning.

(“Sansa, dear, I had hoped to officially offer you an associate position but I wouldn’t want to add any burdens after the dreadful news.  You look so peaky… should I send Taena for a latte?  _Such_ a good thing you’re at Columbia instead of that dreadful school.  You’re much better off in the city anyways, and Joff has taken such a liking to you. Has he mentioned that Met gala yet, the one we’re sponsoring?  You would look so nice with him, you know.  He went with that Tyrell woman last year and even though her grandmother’s firm is one of the best in the South it just doesn’t have the same prestige as a _good_ northern family. Your mother’s grandfather was a Chief Justice after all, even if…”)

Sansa had interrupted to ask the older woman if she had a good shopping contact for the gala (“Joff hasn’t mentioned anything to me, but I would hate to be unprepared for something so special, and there’s a Carolina Herrera that’s just stunning”).  Cersei had looked at her with calculated approval as she wrote the details of her personal shopper at Bergdorfs on the back of her business card.

Sansa’s proud of her self control as she recalls the meeting.  She had worn a look of apathy and disdain when Cersei mentioned the scandal in more detail ( _just like Arya looks when Mom mentions dresses, but no, don’t think of them_ ), dismissing it as nothing more than a consequence of being at such a low-tier establishment and assuring Cersei that, of course, she would have no problems drafting a deposition outline for the next morning.

A knock at the door disturbs her thoughts and she looks up to see Petyr standing there.  _Second time in one day. I haven’t seen this much of him since that picnic fiasco_.  His hair is slightly mussed and he has a streak of blue ink on his shirt.  It’s jarring on a man who is usually so put together and she wonders how badly the rest of his day must have gone for him to look so ruffled. She gestures to the seat across from her as she tilts back in her chair but he comes around to lean against Margaery’s desk instead, forcing her to spin around to meet him. He’s not a tall man, barely her height in flats, but he seems twice as big from this angle and she feels a little like a child in a time-out.  He crosses his arms and looks at her expectantly but she stays silent under the heavy weight of his gaze.

“She offered me the job in the end,” she finally says.

“I knew she would.”

“I have to go to that gala with Joff but still, I got the job.”

He says nothing in response to this and they lapse back into silence.  She wishes she had a pen or something to fidget with and focuses on pulling imaginary lint specks from her pencil skirt.  She looks up at him again after a moment.

“Thank you, for before. I lost my composure and well… thank you.”

Petyr shrugs.  She stands and walks to the window, looking out at the blackness of the Hudson.  She can just make out his reflection in the window – he still rests against the desk, focused on the open door, his back muscular and lean under his collared shirt.

“This job is all I ever wanted, you know, since I was little.  Dad used to tease me about it, told me I’d be much better going into education or medicine. ‘Sansa, you were made to put people together not tear them apart,’ he’d say.  Mom just encouraged me to take up hobbies – ballet, painting, horseback riding – hoping I’d take a fancy to something else instead.  They never tried to discourage Robb, no, he was always going to be a judge.  And Arya, too, and Bran – they never dissuaded them or had any doubts.  Just me.  I think that’s why I chose Columbia, just to prove how wrong they’d been, that I didn’t need any help from my family.  This is the only thing I’ve ever wanted and now-- ”

She stops herself, unsure why she’s telling him all this, why he’s even here, what on earth she’s supposed to do now.

“And now?  Is it still what you want?”  He says quietly, still facing the door.  She waits for him to turn and look at her, his eyes unreadable, and her voice seems to cut like steel as she answers.

“I’ve never wanted it more.”

 

-o0o-

 

Her last year of law school passes in a blur. She goes to function after function on Joff’s arm, always in one of Cersei’s cast-off dresses. She moves out of her small apartment in Queens to a larger one on the Upper West Side of Joff’s choosing. He keeps his apartment (“a man needs his space,” he had claimed) but takes a key to hers. She spends an awkward Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter at the Lannister family home on Long Island. She speaks to her mother on her birthday and she sends Arya and Robb the occasional text but she doesn’t go home. She keeps tabs on the accusations, which rapidly spiral out of control, and she cries herself to sleep when her father gets fired.  Still, she doesn’t call.  She studies and studies for her exams (she also studies and studies _State of New York vs. Stark, et al.,_ keeping detailed notes in a locked file on her laptop).  She graduates at the top of her class and tries to be proud.  Joff takes her to Miami to celebrate and she tries to be happy. She gets emails from Jon and Bran, and even one from Rickon, but she never sends more than a few sentences back. “Busy.  Work starts soon.  Love, S.”

Her first official day at Lannister and King falls on a rainy Monday mid-May.  It’s oppressively hot and the rain does little to bring down the humidity. As an associate, she’s given a new office with a desk near the window and she’s pleased that it looks over the river (and that she won’t have to share it with anyone until the Summers start in June).  Margaery and her old secretary Jeyne stop by to say hello (her new secretary is called Shae but she hasn’t managed to learn anything else about her).  She goes through all of the various inductions and meetings and she’s more than okay that her first partner assignment turns out to be with Tyrion (Intellectual Property) and not with Cersei (Divorce and Family Law) as she’d feared.

She hasn’t seen Petyr since last summer, though there’s mention of him, especially when he nets millions for the firm after settling the never-ending Baratheon case.  Jeyne whispers over drinks one night that he’s going to get voted partner at the next meeting but Margaery just rolls her eyes.  Sansa wonders if he’s staying away from her on purpose and has to remind herself that she shouldn’t care.

The days settle into a routine of hard work and long hours and it feels like she’s been out of school for years (and not weeks) when she gets back from a meeting with Tyrion to a large bouquet of lilies on her desk.  She asks Shae about them, but the girl only hands over a note.  Her name is printed on it in a crisp yet intricate script she recognizes at once, and she turns it over hastily, trying not to appear too eager in front of her stony-faced secretary. 

“To getting the only thing you never wanted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never thought I'd get back to this, but the plot fairy struck today and I just had to! I have more drafted and yes, the rating will definitely be going up (gulp).

**Author's Note:**

> this was just a oneshot for the [GoT Exchange comment fic meme](http://gotexchange-mod.livejournal.com/1855.html), but I'm really liking the setting so I plan to continue with a much longer fic. I've never attempted anything of this magnitude before, so I'm going to get a head start before I start posting...
> 
> (title is from Maxwell Anderson's Winterset)


End file.
